In 1962 I offered an analysis of the Line and Cave which (1) maintained that the four main divisions of each are parallel and (2) interpreted the three stages of ascent in the Cave allegory as representing the three stages in Plato's educational programme: music and gymnastic, mathematics and dialectic. At that time a major portion of my task was to counter arguments which purported to show that the Line and Cave could not be parallel. The present situation is quite different since recent writers, for the most part, not only take the four main divisions of the Cave as parallel to those of the Line, but also accept the restriction of the Cave allegory to moral and mathematical education as a crucial step in the establishing of this fact. This last move, which is clearly in harmony with the form and content of the Republic, enables us to allow for the ordinary unenlightened man to be at the bottom level of the Cave without our having to suggest that he confuses the shadows of visual objects with their originals, which could well be the case if the Cave were taken to represent all sense perception as such.

Despite fairly general agreement on these basic points of interpretation there remains, however, a wide divergence of opinion as to the significance of the various levels of education or moral awareness portrayed by the Cave. In keeping with several recent papers on this topic I shall focus my attention on the bottom two stages of this allegory: the state (C1) of the prisoners viewing shadows on the cave wall and that (C2) of the released prisoners, still in the cave, but turned around and looking at the puppets which cast these shadows.

Juvenal opens his eighth Satire with the question stemmata quid faciunt?, supplies an answer in line 20, nobilitas sola est atque unica virtus, and devotes the rest of the poem to exhorting his addressee to virtuous activity, both by negative exempla drawn from the degenerate nobility and by positive exempla drawn from the plebs, novi homines and the like. In lines 39–70 he addresses one particularly self-important noble and attempts to deflate his bombastic pride: in 56–67 he adduces an extended illustration from the animal world, apparently such as was common in the schools of rhetoric.

Catullus 68 has for generations been the site of hard-fought and inconclusive philological battles. This, it may be confidently predicted, will continue to be the case. The present contribution, therefore, can pretend to no more elaborate aim than the opening up of certain new fronts. It falls into two parts of unequal length: first (I) some general observations on the contents of the poem — or poems, for the Einheitsfrage cannot be evaded — and the underlying theme(s) thereof; second (II) a detailed examination of the source (A) and significance (B) of perhaps the most remarkable passage in an altogether remarkable piece of work, to wit the barathrum simile (107 ff.). The argument of I has, the reader will observe, a not inconsiderable bearing on that of IIB, though it is in no way dependent on the latter's acceptability. The argument of IIA, to the contrary, has no necessary link with those of I and IIB and may profitably (and justly) be judged by itself.

Any attempt to grapple with the issue of divine behaviour towards men in Aischylos or any other Greek thinker must begin with the question of expectations: what do the gods expect from men, and what, if anything, may men expect in return from the gods? A. W. H. Adkins has I think demonstrated clearly that in Homer at least the defining barrier between mortal and immortal is one of degree, not kind; the gods are gods not because of moral excellences or all-encompassing wisdom, but simply by virtue of their greater power. This power, and the capacity to defend it, is the essence of their τιμή, which they guard as jealously as any mortal ⋯γαθός. What is expected of men, therefore, is a healthy respect for divine τιμή, and an avoidance of any action, however innocent, which might seem to lessen divine status. Thus when Hermes in the first book of the Odyssey tells Aigisthos not to kill Agamemnon or to take his wife, he does so qua god, not moral adviser, and Aigisthos' transgression lies foremost in his rejection of that command. In the same way Hesiod's Prometheus offends (several times) against the prerogatives and τιμή of Zeus, and is appropriately punished; that he meant well is irrelevant to Hesiod, nor is there any interest in his rehabilitation. Examples in the lyric poets are by the nature of the genre less abundant, but we may certainly note Stesichoros 223 PMG, where Tyndareos' accidental slight of Aphrodite draws down the anger of the goddess on his daughters. Similar too is the fate of the daughters of Proitos, whose boast in Bakchylides 11 that their father is wealthier than Hera brings about their subsequent madness.

Suetonius quotes at Tiberius 21. 4–7 a number of passages from letters of Augustus to Tiberius showing the high regard in which he professed to hold him, despite his reservations about the darker side of his character, once he had decided to adopt him ‘rei publicae causa’ in a.d 4. They seem to have attracted little critical comment, although Seager connects them with the handling by Tiberius of the Pannonian revolt in a.d. 6–9. suggesting that in view of their fulsome character they were probably written towards the end of this period, when the crisis was past, rather than earlier when Augustus may (Dio 55.31) have been critical of Tiberius’ caution in prosecuting the war. But he does not attempt a more detailed appraisal of the possible dates of the individual letters quoted. Sections 21. 4 and 5 in particular present interesting textual difficulties, mainly arising from the transmission of Greek in a predominantly Latin text: this article discusses these with a view to throwing greater light on the historical significance of the letters.

First, the text, to which I have appended a limited apparatus which concentrates on the points of greatest difficulty (the manuscript references are as in Ihm's edition).